A Lenten Golf Lesson

I am not a good golfer, but I love to play the game. The environment inspires me, and the game entertains and fascinates me. While playing, I’m shown many lessons that extend far beyond the course itself. One such lesson came years ago on a course in Florida, but I was too young and distracted to learn it.

I’m not sure what hole it was, but the tee was separated from the fairway by water. The distance my ball had to travel was not all that far, but the water made it intimidatingly far. The reeds and plants taunting me as they swayed in the breeze, as if to say “Hey, notice me,” only made the challenge more daunting. Each time I walked onto the tee, I thought not about the fairway beyond, but the water in front. It was as if I was waving my arms in concert with the reeds.

One day, I placed my ball on the tee, took a deep breath, and tried not to think about the water, swung, and watched as my ball swerved right into the water. After a few cleansing breaths, mixed with some fruitful declarations, I tried again. The result was the same. Determined to get past the water, I tried a third time only to hear the splash within seconds. After the fourth unsuccessful attempt, my laughing friends could take no more, and we moved on.

What I didn’t understand then was the power of thought. By trying to NOT think about the water, it was all I thought about. Instead of seeing my ball flying to the expansive fairway beyond, I focused on the water, somehow believing my ball could walk on water, rather than over it.

In Lent, many of us focus on what we DON’T want to do, or the person we DON’T want to be, but, like that day on the tee, we focus on the very thing we seek to avoid and, like a magnet, our thoughts pull us toward it.

I’m sure I represent the extreme in mental weakness, but the lesson of focusing one what we DO want to do, and who we DO want to be may help others as well. In fact, I think such a shift in focus could be a game changer.